


Duality

by DirtyDuchess, JoansGlove



Series: Hierarchy of Needs [5]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-04 19:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5345060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyDuchess/pseuds/DirtyDuchess, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoansGlove/pseuds/JoansGlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following Rita's death things have changed subtly for Joan and Vera.</p><p>Joan treats Vera to a special meal and an exceptional dessert</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something a little different for you all - two authors for the price of one!
> 
> Many, many thanks to DirtyDuchess who has kindly written Vera in this tale 
> 
> And thanks also to Ifitbelove - assistance was required which she amply supplied :)

Joan slipped the gauzy kameez top over her dark head adjusting the fitted panels and deeply notched neckline to best display her ample cleavage and flipping her lustrous hair back over her shoulders; her shalwar were tight, ruched around the ankles and skimming her firm thighs. She’d considered her outfit carefully – something to match tonight’s menu was appropriate but more chic than traditional dress. Checking her appearance in the floor to ceiling mirror she was surprised to see her grandmother staring out at her. God, she hadn’t thought about her in years! How strange that she had never recognised the similarity before; maybe she had just reached that ‘certain age’ – unlike her unfortunate mother. She was the last of her line; there would be no more dark-haired girl children to continue the matriarchy. Maybe that was a good thing Joan mused.

A final inspection of the inner courtyard confirmed that all was in order; the kitchen too. So rarely did she cook for others that this evening was actually quite a big deal. It was important that the dishes should complement each other and that the courses should flow seamlessly. 

When she opened the door to Vera Joan was struck by her stylish outfit, that and the expectant look on her face.  
“Wine?” she regarded the carefully wrapped bottle in Vera’s hand. “I told you that it wasn’t necessary, Vera.”  
“I know, but I thought that I should contribute something…” Vera pushed the gift towards Joan. “It’s made with grapes from the Levant.” Her voice rang with confidence. “It should go well with tonight’s menu.” Vera’s gaze wandered, as Joan had expected, in the direction of her breasts.   
“So it should, Vera, so it should.” Joan smiled and stepped aside, allowing Vera entry. “Make yourself comfortable in the courtyard, I’ll be with you momentarily.” Joan took a second or two to watch Vera as she made her way outside. She’d chosen to wear a rather provocative wrap dress with a deep cowl neckline that revealed a substantial portion of her chest and which clung to her pert buttocks in a very pleasing manner. Her boots too, drew Joan’s admiration; glossy, black and knee length, the platform sole and spiked heel gave them a look of Domina. 

Vera had also selected her outfit with care; she didn’t want to look trashy. She loved nice clothes and the way Joan’s eyes so often raked her body when she thought Vera wasn’t looking, well - she wanted to take advantage of that! Especially after what had happened the day her mother died. She’d also remembered how surprised and pleased Joan had looked the time she’d worn those buckled boots. She felt a warm tingle between her legs recalling how sexy they made her feel. She’d chosen these spiked boots for a similar reason. 

Vera was perched on the marble edge of the small fountain, leaning over and rippling the cool water with her fingers when Joan appeared carrying a small tray of drinks. Joan’s clit gave a faint twitch as she glimpsed Vera’s perfect breast exposed by the gaping fabric of her dress.   
“Sherbet?” Her voice sounded forced, too high. Was she nervous? No, that wasn’t it. A flash of flesh, no matter how delectable, wasn’t enough to make her …. What? Anticipatory would suffice for the present.  
She barely flinched when Vera’s fingers brushed against hers as she took the proffered glass.  
“Ooh, this looks interesting! What is it?”  
“Sherbet. Basically a cordial but I took the liberty of livening it up with a little vodka. My grandmother would turn in her grave if she knew I was deviating from her recipe but hell, this is the 21st century!”  
Vera was surprised to hear Joan mention her family, she’d never done that before. Vera wondered if that was because Joan was starting to trust her, now that they were closer. She didn’t quite dare herself to ask any questions quite yet though (she didn’t want to push Joan’s fiercely guarded sense of privacy). 

Vera took an experimental sip. “Roses? And umm….” She took another mouthful, noting how Joan’s beautiful, dark eyes were trained on her mouth. “And pomegranate. Am I right?”   
Joan smiled, pleased to discover that Vera had a half-decent palate. She would be able to appreciate her cooking all the more. She sank down onto a pile of cushions and gestured with her long fingers for Vera to join her, eyes crinkling in amusement as her guest struggled to keep her skirts together whilst maneuvering her booted feet into a comfortable position. Vera’s dress hadn’t been designed for kneeling and her boots were most definitely not made for lounging…   
Vera blushed as she saw the mirth in Joan’s face. She’d been expecting a formal dinner at a table not sitting on floor cushions!   
It seemed that Joan was really beginning to relax around her and open up; she was excited at the thought of where this could lead. Joan looked so stunning tonight. Her outfit was simple but exquisite, accentuating Joan’s lithe, agile body. Vera was finding it difficult to breathe evenly, awestruck as she was by the beautiful creature in front of her, still unable to believe her luck that Joan wanted HER here. 

They took their time emptying the jug of delicately scented liquid. Small talk about work gave way to discussions around food and drink; it turned out that Vera had a rather extensive knowledge of wine, albeit academic. Joan looked at Vera quizzically; she’d gone to quite a bit of effort to find one to match tonight’s theme. Apparently grapes originating from the Levant region were hard to come by so the wine she’d brought that evening was more than just a good guess. She’d done her research. Joan was quietly impressed.  
Vera had always been interested in food too but she had limited practical experience; she explained how she'd read every recipe book going, spent hours alone watching cookery shows late at night but had always been hampered by her mum's dislike of "foreign food" and her non-existent social circle. She'd never had the opportunity to experiment and somehow, now Rita was dead, she just hadn't felt like it. But Vera was pleased that for once she could talk with confidence about something and maybe even impress Joan. The Governor's raised eyebrow of surprise wasn’t lost on her. 

Joan reflected on her tendency to underestimate her deputy, something that she would have to try and curb in light of this small revelation. But it rankled with her how long Vera had allowed her mother to dominate her, how Vera had permitted her to retard her exploration of something that so obviously interested her.   
“So tell me, Vera, are you familiar with Middle Eastern cuisine?”  
“I’ve only had mezzes the once but I really liked them. It was at a little place in Mildura.”  
Joan grinned and gave a small chuckle. “Mildura? You went for the oranges or the flies?”   
“No, we went for the golf.” Vera’s voice was full of bitterness. “I hate golf. I was so bored….” She looked at Joan as she ran her finger around the rim of her glass, collecting droplets of fragrant residue on the tip before slowly sucking it off. “I hate to be bored…”   
Vera had never really thought about it before but was struck by how true the statement was. Perhaps that was why she was so fascinated by Joan and the possibilities of their…association, both professionally and personally. She was aware that Joan was watching her intently, silently absorbing every new revelation with slightly narrowed eyes. 

Joan couldn’t take her eyes off Vera’s mouth; her lips were moist and full, flushed deep pink from their animated conversation. The way they captured that soft fingertip entranced her so; her pulse quickened and she swallowed hard. She abruptly unfolded herself and stood up; from her vantage point she had an unrestricted view down the front of Vera’s dress. The wide valley between her small breasts was already shining with a soft sheen of sweat. Her eyes met Vera’s and found none of her usual hesitance. This was new….  
“I’ll be right back. Maybe you should take off those boots and make yourself more comfortable?”

Vera relaxed back into the cushions, feeling at ease as she savoured the sight of Joan retreating into the house. Was Joan being deliberately provocative, swaying her delectable arse like that just for her benefit?! Deciding she didn’t care and that she could play along just as well, Vera chose to keep her boots on for the time being. 

As she marshalled the entrees on the large platter Joan’s mind returned to their conversation; it seemed that Rita had stifled Vera’s explorations into anything that did not interest or benefit her directly. Joan was immensely proud that Vera had found the courage to take care of her mother. That single step had raised Vera beyond the level of a conscientious and striving Deputy Governor. The shared knowledge of what Joan had so subtly demanded (and why) and Vera’s subsequent actions bound them tighter than just Mentor/Mentee; they had a connection that ran deeper, and Joan was very pleased. None of the protégées that had gone before Vera had ever shown this level of dedication. She was special and Joan knew that if Vera pushed herself even harder then they truly would achieve great things. Channing and Smith, Joan’s lip curled at the mere thought of her name, stood no chance against their united front.

The silver tray covered most of the low table and as Joan bent over to better arrange the dishes and replenished jug she caught Vera staring at the thin slice of full cleavage her top revealed. “Hungry, Vera?”   
The flustered woman hurriedly looked away before shooting Joan a guilty smile.  
“Are you sure you don’t want to take your boots off? Beautiful as they are they must be a little restrictive no?”  
“They are rather nice aren’t they?” Vera lovingly stroked the highly polished leather, her hand sliding effortlessly across the black hide. “I’ve been able to invest in some gorgeous new ones since Mum passed. I’m building quite a collection….”  
It was Joan’s turn to stare as Vera’s skirt slipped from her shapely thigh. She’d seen Vera in various states of undress but at this moment, the glimpses of flesh allowed her by Vera’s well-cut, if, revealing outfit made her pulse race faster than in any instance that she’d engineered so far. Joan felt an unexpected prickle climb up her neck; a corresponding heat began to warm her thighs. She turned and busied herself lighting the small charcoal grill. 

“There’s something special about cooking on open flame don’t you think? It’s so primal.” She seated herself at right angles to Vera, crossing her long legs under her as she reached for a bowl of glossy olives. “It’s so hot tonight that I think we can break with tradition so for the next course we’ll only be having a little meat and salad. Tradition isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be is it?”   
Vera flashed an uncertain smile, unsure what to say. Sometimes she worried that everything Joan said to her was some sort of test.  
“Just like only eating with your right hand, as this meal should be eaten. Islamic tradition views the left hand as unclean you know. The left hand has long been regarded as sinister in many cultures.” She flexed her own, examining her long, pale fingers and perfectly manicured nails. “In fact, that’s where the word comes from.”   
Vera wasn’t quick enough; Joan caught her gazing raptly at her extended digits, plump lip caught between teeth. Her eyes crinkled at Vera’s fascination. Vera cursed her blushes as she hurriedly pushed away arousing memories of how those fingers had felt on and in her body. The developing wetness between her legs was, however, harder to ignore.  
“That said, sometimes it is wise to keep one hand unsullied.” She arched an exquisite eyebrow. “How clean are your fingers Vera? You’ll need them tonight!” Her dark eyes twinkled as she plucked a large purple olive from its dish and raised it to her mouth. “Come on! Dive in!” Oil snaked down her palm and wrist as she gestured towards the spread of exotic fare. Vera’s face reddened further at Joan’s words. Everything Joan said sounded like a come on and she was finding it really difficult to work out if that was just her desperate attraction to Joan that twisted the meaning or if it was, in fact, real.

“I recommend the baba ghanoush. The eggplant needs to be cooked to bursting and the skin burnt to make the flesh really, really smoky; I blackened them myself earlier on the barbecue. It was hot work, but then we must suffer for our art.”  
Vera imagined Joan; sweat on her brow and on her neck, heavy beads running down between her breasts as she diligently turned eggplants on the grill. Wrenching her mind away from thoughts of slowly dragging her tongue up that divine channel, she asked, “What else is in it?”  
“Well, there are many different recipes and furious arguments over authenticity, a bit like hummus, but my version is quite simple; just some garlic, lemon juice and olive oil.”   
“We’d better both eat it then, if it’s got garlic in it...” Vera broke off suddenly realising what she’d said. She blushed furiously again but this time met Joan’s amused gaze and defiantly refused to look away. She wasn’t some silly little girl! She wanted Joan and needed her to know it.

Sitting so close to each other it was inevitable that their hands brushed past each other as they reached for dishes, as glasses were handed back and forth. With each touch the tension built, Joan’s eyes roamed over Vera, noting how easily she had taken to her unfamiliar environment, how much more confident she seemed from any other occasion that they had spent time in each other’s company. It was rare for Joan to share a meal in such a casual setting but this was different, it had been designed to put Vera at ease, to show her that she was not always so strict and unbending, demanding total compliance - but it had morphed into something else; she was discovering that she enjoyed Vera’s company much more than originally expected and it was turning into an evening of rare pleasure and one of potential discovery for them both.


	2. Chapter 2

Sauce spilled out under Joan’s firm bite, oozing from the folded flatbread; her tongue flicked out to head off a globule clinging to the corner of her soft mouth. With deliberate slowness she licked her long fingers, sucking on the pad of her thumb as she held Vera’s gaze, noticing with satisfaction the quiver on her guest’s lips and the slight hitch in her breathing.   
Vera was starting to feel slightly agitated; every gesture Joan made was turning her on!

“It’s warm isn’t it Vera?” Joan fingered the embroidered slit of her tunic, watching with satisfaction as Vera followed every movement with a hungry stare. “But not as hot as last time you were here, eh?”  
Joan’s twitching lips glistened, coated in oil, moistened by her wet, pink tongue as she leaned forward and wiped away a smear on Vera’s chin, her thumb moving upward to tenderly trace the contour of Vera’s lower lip.   
As if a switch had been flipped Joan’s demeanour changed; she withdrew her hand and looked towards the corner of the courtyard, softened features suddenly immobile and inscrutable. A small spiral of uncertainty twisted in her gut; was she doing the right thing in allowing Vera a little flirtation? Probably, she decided; she couldn’t continue to treat Vera like the interesting ‘pet’ that she had up until now so resembled. 

But….what if she was wrong? What if, what if Vera misinterpreted the relaxation of formal barriers as a green light to something else? Vera allowed her emotions to rule her private life and believed that to hold true for everyone else despite evidence to the contrary.   
Or even worse… what if Vera saw through her act and walked away? What if she valued true friendship and support over personal and professional advancement? Joan quailed at the thought; the drum of confusion beat in her ears. Vera certainly wasn’t a friend but she was more than a mere employee… No! She wouldn’t allow those thoughts credence.

Joan’s arousal was becoming progressively more pronounced - she could feel her lips swelling, twitching at the thought of what tonight held in store. This evening had originally been intended as a reward for Vera’s good work but her intriguing discovery that Vera was far more erudite than she could have originally guessed at caused Joan to reassess her plan for Vera’s development.  
Their ‘lovemaking’ too, had changed the dynamic between them – subtly but noticeably. Joan realised with a small start that she was less guarded around Vera, the terms of their unspoken contract fluctuating - an inevitable result of their rule-free encounter and increasing familiarity she knew; but she hadn’t thought that she’d be susceptible to something that was technically a blip on the path to Vera’s enlightenment. 

Yet her ease around Vera felt comfortable and she found that she was actually enjoying herself a little. She liked working alongside her Deputy, liked the way she was progressing now that unnecessary domestic distractions had been negated; and she liked the way Vera was coming out of her shell and beginning to experience the world in a way that had been denied to her for so long. She was proving to be so much more than the quiet, unassuming ‘Vera the Meek’ that had offered nervous greetings in her austere office on the very first day at Wentworth and it made Joan proud. 

She shifted position, very aware of how sticky her cunt was becoming, how her spreading desire made her limbs feel so fluid, how the feeling of temptation tickled in her belly. However, in spite of her uncommon ease Joan knew that she could not slacken the reins on their partnership. She could not allow Vera to become complacent and imagine a friendship was developing, regardless of their connection. She HAD to find a way to make Vera understand but for now she was happy to enjoy Vera’s company. 

Swinging into hostess mode Joan cleared the table of empty dishes, taking a moment to make sure Vera had an unrestricted view down her top as she leant over before moving to the grill that shimmered in a haze of its own making. Bright licks of flames danced around Joan’s hands as she arranged the marinated meat on the searing rack. She knew Vera was watching her so she carefully smoothed her tunic against her front as if to keep it from potential danger, tracing the soft contours of her warming midriff and belly. Joan always ran hot and she rarely sweated without a certain degree of physical exertion but the fierce, white heat of the coals initiated a soft bloom of perspiration. She pushed her hair off her shining forehead with her wrist and puffed out her cheeks. “Ooof! If I wasn’t hot before, I certainly am now!” Joan graced Vera with an almost indulgent smile.

Vera still couldn't believe she was here, conversing with this beautiful being almost as an equal. But she finally felt her nerves dissipate as she relaxed into Joan's company and the pleasure the evening was offering up. She’d never felt this comfortable around her before and she didn’t even think it was the booze! It was……nice. She endeavoured to just enjoy herself.   
She would start by admiring the view. She couldn’t deny that a perspiring, flushed Joan was a sight to behold! She momentarily savoured a memory of a naked, writhing and sweating Joan. Maybe, hopefully, this evening was heading in a similar direction…

As darkness filled the sky soft lamps flickered into life, casting their golden light on the two colleagues, encouraging their reflections to solidify in the glass walls. Vera closed her eyes, caressing her boots as she remembered how Joan had used the windows as mirrors to seduce her. Flexing her knees she raised her feet and rested them on the side of the fountain, twisting them this way and that, watching their reflection in the glass. They were hot in every sense of the word; she knew that soon she’d have to accede to Joan’s suggestion to remove them but she could bear the discomfort for a few minutes more….  
Pointing a toe towards Joan she lined it up with her crotch, her thigh quivering as her mind was suddenly full of a particularly satisfying masturbation fantasy in which she wore nothing but these boots and an evil smile as she stood between Joan’s open thighs, one shiny sole planted firmly against Joan’s clit as her Governor rubbed herself to noisy, sweaty, delirious orgasm.

Slowly, so slowly she unzipped each one and slid them off, massaging her cramped calves and aching feet.  
Vera curled her bootless legs under her bum, finally relaxing properly into the cushions. She lay back, sipping her wine and blatantly eyeing Joan’s curves over the rim of her glass as she made the final preparations at the grill for their main course. Joan, of course had observed every single one of Vera’s movements in the tall, dark windows; appreciating how much Vera enjoyed her footwear - and her view.

“Are you ready to eat, Vera? The meat’s ready.”

Joan served the succulent lamb with a jewelled bulgur wheat salad and yoghurt sauce. She settled herself back on the cushions opposite Vera.  
“I think it’s time to open your wine, Vera. Where did you get it from?”  
“I know this specialist wine dealer in St Kilda. I’ve only been a few times but they’re really friendly and helpful. Not at all snobby like I expected.”  
Joan opened the bottle and filled their glasses; Vera stared at her with reverence, in awe at the woman’s unwavering self-assurance. Vera wished she could be more like that.  
“Cheers, Vera.” Joan clinked glasses with Vera and took an experimental mouthful of the wine.   
“Mmmm that’s really nice, Vera. You did your homework there.” She smiled appreciatively.  
“Well, there are such exciting Australian wines now I would never usually look abroad - except for a really good Marlborough Sauvignon but this evening was an exception because of the food.” She looked to Joan for approval. “Although I’m sure anything unoaked and from cooler climate vineyards, like in Adelaide Hills, would go really well with most Middle Eastern food.” Vera stopped abruptly, worried that she was babbling or even boring Joan.   
Joan looked at her curiously, full of surprise. It seemed that Vera did actually know what she was talking about.

Vera’s hand faltered on its way to her mouth. Joan’s lips were wrapped round the pink chop; juices glistened on her chin and fingers as she sucked the tender meat from the bone. Vera stared entranced as Joan slowly licked her lips, savouring the flavours collecting on her tongue; she failed to notice the thin trickle of spiced gravy that splattered the lap of her dress. 

“Vera, you’re dripping!”  
“Uh? Sorry?” she looked down and saw the growing stain on the expensive material. “Shit!” she pressed her napkin into her thigh as she brought her wrist to her open mouth stemming the flow. “I’m such a klutz!” She mumbled.  
“Well I’m not doing much better, look at me!” Joan held up her capable hand, also liberally coated in gravy and oils.  
“Yeah but you haven’t ruined your outfit have you?”  
Joan chuckled, her black eyes shining in the lamplight. “It’s not the end of the world, I’m sure. I’ve seen you in worse states!”   
Vera grinned sheepishly and bit into her lamb, keeping her gaze fixed on Joan’s glowing face, engaging her eyes as she smacked her lips. More juice ran down her palm and she lapped it away with the flat of her tongue, all the time holding Joan’s intense stare. 

Joan took a deep swallow of the pleasing wine; her throat was suddenly inexplicably dry. The glass slipped in her greasy grip and a rivulet of ruby liquid spilled down her chin and neck, bleeding into the yoke of her thin tunic.  
“Now I’m just as grubby as you, Vera!”

The messy meal progressed with long gaps in the conversation. The woman savoured each other’s enjoyment. They exchanged liquid glances, took illicit pleasure in the sensuous way their tongues dragged across shining skin, trailed along moist lips, flicked out to clean sullied fingers.   
Joan opened a second bottle of wine, Chateau Musar, maybe Vera would recognise its provenance.  
“Ooooh this is goood!” Vera’s index finger detached itself from her glass to emphasise the point. “Did you go to St Kilda too?”  
“Oh I have a trusted supplier for most things, Vera.” She smiled inscrutably and reached for an olive.

As the alcohol loosened their tongues talk turned to favourite drinks - it was no surprise that Joan favoured vodka - and moments of drunken embarrassment, of which Vera had thankfully had few but which had generally involved men who thought that she was a ‘nice girl’.   
Only half listening to Joan’s tale Vera mused on how she had always relied on alcohol to deaden the faint unease during her sexual encounters with men but felt no such need with Joan. In fact, she positively craved and delighted in the attention of this astounding older woman.  
“…So there I was, brim-full of cheap wine and my Dad was giving me the whole “No daughter of mine…” routine when I just keeled over and knocked myself out on the door frame! I was concussed for three days! Ha! Army brats, what ya gonna do?” Vera was surprised to hear Joan drop her cultured tone; she wasn’t drunk was she?

Taking advantage of the unexpected levity Vera stretched out her hand and wiped a smear off Joan's cheek. Joan gripped her wrist as if to stop her but the hold was loose and Vera engaged her dark eyes as her thumb slid to parted lips, caressing their finely sculpted softness before pushing between them and against Joan’s hot tongue.

Joan, unresisting, stared at Vera, surprised at how she was allowing herself to be so intimate with her.   
“I think we need to wash our hands, Vera don’t you? A finger bowl will not suffice after all that.” She broke the intense moment, raising herself from the cushions and heading into the house.  
 


	3. Chapter 3

Vera washed and dried her hands and swollen lips in the cloakroom off Joan's hall. She stood still for a moment, hands gripping the sides of the sink as she realised how rapidly she was breathing. Connecting with her image in the mirror she tried to calm herself. What was going on here? Joan had never acted like this before, so open, relaxed and friendly. Right now they felt more like lovers than.........what? Boss and underling, master and.....  
Stop it, Bennett! Vera told herself firmly. Why do you always have to over-analyse everything? Make it more complicated than it needs to be? You're always complaining how cold and unaffectionate she is. You're doing OK so far, just relax and enjoy it for god's sake. Go with the flow and don't mess it up!  
After all, she thought wryly, it's not as if you'll be complaining later, regardless of what she does to you. Vera felt a shudder of anticipation. She started, smoothed her hair and made her way back to the kitchen. 

Vera found Joan checking her phone. Her thick, black mane lay over one shoulder revealing her long, sensuous neck. Joan put it down and turned as she heard Vera approach. “No rest for the wicked eh, Vera? Would you mind…?” She passed Vera a pair of delicate glasses and a small bottle and picked up the platter holding the final course.  
Carrying the dessert wine Vera followed Joan out into the courtyard, entranced by her swaying walk. The thin shirt did little to hide Joan’s curves and somehow managed to cling to the fabulous contours of her generous buttocks.

The fruit had been artfully arranged on a bed of vine leaves. Figs already partially split and drizzled with honey, plump grapes and slices of vibrant orange melon strewn with ruby pomegranate seeds.  
“Anything take your fancy, Vera?” Joan knelt over the table and selected some melon. “The figs are good. Try them with the wine.”  
Vera picked up a bulbous fruit and inspected it a little uncertainly. “I’ve never eaten fresh figs like this before.”  
Vera tried to push away the creeping thought that perhaps she wasn't refined enough for Joan after all. No, she WAS. Joan was relaxed and enjoying her company, she could tell!

Plucking another from the nest of greenery Joan levelled her gaze at her naïve guest. “There’s no right or wrong way, Vera, but certain foods lend themselves well to being eaten in the simplest of ways. Most people would think that a dish like this requires cutlery of some description but I have always favoured this method.” She gripped the tip of the fig between forefingers and thumbs, pressing and pulling at the pink rent in the deep purple bulb, tearing the delicate flesh apart and opening the fruit further. She noted how Vera stared at her long, white fingers as they manipulated the soft flesh; on the one hand she was awe-struck at Joan’s confidence and knowledge, but right now all she could focus on was the sensuous way she handled the fruit. Vera’s nipples ached as she imagined them trapped and twisted by those manicured tips. 

Bringing the fruit to her mouth Joan caught Vera’s eye. Her companion’s face held a look of surprise mixed with a tinge of lust, a look that intensified as Joan raised the fig and ran her tongue over the honeyed centre.  
Joan’s soft, mobile lips clung to the dark skin and perfumed pulp as she worked the fig between her teeth. Honey oozed onto her chin and fingertips as the thin rind ripped under pressure and spread its bounty across her face and hand.  
Joan was surprised to find just how much her demonstration was exciting her; the feeling of the fruit against her thickening lips and tongue made her want more. She eyed Vera hungrily, curious to see her imitate the technique, speculating how Vera’s mouth would move on her own sex…. She felt her clit jerk at the thought of Vera’s hot mouth sliding along her swollen cunt.  
Vera returned Joan's burning stare, incredibly aware of the obvious flush that surged over every inch of her handsome, beautiful face and velvety neck. Could Joan actually be as turned on as she was? She’d NEVER flirted with her like this before. Jesus, Joan Ferguson was actually flirting with her. Fuck! Vera would have laughed, were it not for Joan’s intense, riveting eyes.

Lifting her head Joan wiped the debris from her luminescent skin with a delicate sweep of her fingertips. “Do you ever consider the effect that food has on our senses, Vera? How it evokes memories, the physiological effect on our bodies and our mood?  
Vera looked at her, her brow slightly furrowed. “Of course, Joan. It’s linked into our olfactory sense. You know, aromatherapists say patients often recall forgotten events linked to the smell of the oils they use, some of them even end up crying. For me, Vegemite reminds me of Sunday evening tea as a kid. Nasty stuff! Mum and Dad would have spent the entire weekend together by then and it was normally tense as hell. It evokes bad memories but it doesn’t make me cry!”

“You’re not just a pretty face are you?” Joan’s voice radiated approval. Vera’s learning was wider than she’d supposed  
She was surprised that she was actually interested in hearing personal details about Vera; usually this type of mundane conversation would bore her rigid but it also provided an unparalleled opportunity to discover Vera’s weaknesses; the ones that weren’t so obvious, ones that could be used to prime future choices.

Vera tried to look modest but couldn’t resist adding: “Or are you referring to the saying that we eat with our eyes?”  
“Something along those lines, Vera; but texture is important too. Consider the fig – does the colouring remind you of anything?” Her eyes crinkled as a mischievous smile flitted across her softly lit face.  
“Consider the similarity of the inner flesh to a woman’s sex. Does it not glisten invitingly?” she raised an eyebrow as Vera’s eyes flickered between hers and the sticky fruit on her plate. “Taste it Vera. Does it feel the same on your tongue?” She needed to see how Vera handled this new experience and the pressure she was exerting on her.

Vera struggled to maintain eye contact when Joan talked to her in such a suggestive manner. She felt self- conscious; as though Joan's stare was penetrating her soul, illuminating her most intimate thoughts, laying her bare. She felt confusion; why did this beautiful, strong woman pursue HER, play with her? What did she want from her? And she felt arousal on a scale that made her feel completely out of control. She knew she would let Joan do anything with her, to her, regardless of how unworthy she felt in that instance and how confused she would feel afterwards. Vera knew Joan had issues with intimacy, the lack of kisses told her.  
So how was it that Joan's intense gaze made her feel like the prude? It’s time to step up and prove you’re not, she told herself decisively.

Joan watched intently as Vera brought the soft fruit to her mouth with hesitant movements.  
“Open it a little, Vera, smell it - that’s it, bring it up to your nose.”  
Vera squeezed the soft skin between sticky fingers, forcing the pale pink pulp to erupt; her nostrils flared as she sniffed at it.  
“It’s a delicate scent isn’t it? Almost overpowered by the honey I think…”  
“Does it taste as it smells, Vera?” She leaned forward, pushing her swollen labia against the plump cushion  
Vera lowered her face to the fragrant mass of seeds, eyes searching Joan’s for guidance.  
Joan’s lips twitched as she recalled the night she’d lowered her own perfumed flesh onto Vera’s still gasping mouth. She drew a deep breath through her nose, filling her lungs; holding it till her chest ached and it was forced out as a low rumble from the back of her throat as Vera’s tongue tentatively traced the uneven, yielding flesh; forcing it into the centre. 

Vera, so finely tuned to Joan’s expressions, the changes in the pitch of her voice, saw the flush creep from Joan’s chest up her throat. She felt a rush of arousal fuelled by the powerful awareness that SHE was turning Joan on. Vera fully intended to make the most of this while Joan was in the mood! She needed such moments. It was reassuring to know that she was not the only one affected by…THIS…It somehow re-balanced the power dynamics in this very one-sided relationship.  
She closed her eyes and imagined delving her tongue into Joan as she suckled the soft fruit; almost French kissing it as she explored the moist, sticky heart of the fig. It tasted OK, nothing special but smearing it against her mouth, her needy lips and thickening tongue was sinfully hot; she shivered as a bolt of lust raced through her.  
She felt a movement in the balmy air and as her long lashes parted she found Joan had closed the distance between them; her dark eyes blazing in the reflected lights, her ruby lips wet and quivering. 

Joan leant in so very close to Vera, their faces mere millimetres apart, teasing her with her lips and eyes as Vera gasped and squirmed; lifting her body up to Joan’s, legs sliding from under her to better accommodate Joan’s powerful frame.  
“This dessert wine compliments the fruit. I feel that it is always important to consider the interaction of two separate entities when creating a third.”  
Joan picked up a small glass of golden wine and slowly dribbled the nectar between Vera’s parted lips, licking away a drop from the corner of her mouth with the very tip of her tongue. Vera gasped at the sight and sensation. Her cunt was starting to pulse with longing and anticipation, desperate for Joan to touch her. Putting the glass aside Joan’s hand slipped beneath Vera’s skirt seeking the band of her underwear. Her fingers brushed Vera’s pubic hair as she grasped the soft elastic and pulled the offending garment down trembling thighs. Selecting a slice of melon she applied the cool flesh to Vera’s hot slit.  
Vera’s eyes widened in surprise as she felt the slippery fruit pressed between her lips, she’d been expecting Joan’s fingers and this was wholly different. It felt cold, wet and sticky but utterly divine! Her entire body was electrified, attuned to nothing but the glorious creature between her legs. 

Joan rubbed the melon slowly up and down Vera’s furred channel, delighting in her instant reaction. Vera’s back arched further as Joan pushed the melon against her entrance, agitating the twitching hole, teasing the slippery slit until Vera was clawing at the cushions and moaning with desire.  
Joan too, was wet and twitching; a woman’s vocal appreciation always aroused her and Vera’s was starting to fan the already glowing coals in her loins. She pushed the melon deep into Vera, teasing her open mouth with swollen lips, eyes locked onto Vera’s as she slowly fucked her with fruit until the panting woman’s orgasm began to crest. The look of dismay on Vera’s face was exquisite as the impromptu dildo was withdrawn.

Vera lay on her back, her body heaved as her breathing slowed. She was so turned on by the lustful look on Joan's face, her sticky cunt twitching at the loss of the fruit. She was desperate to feel those long, skillful hands on her body. Her breathing quickened again with anticipation at what Joan would do next.  
Discarding the sticky piece of produce Joan unfastened the burnished clip at Vera’s small waist and spread the wings of her dress to gaze upon her captivating form.


	4. Chapter 4

Joan lay alongside Vera, the soft fabric of her top fell from the curve of her sumptuously rounded hips, spilling across Vera’s bare thigh. It tickled but Vera managed to control her response and embrace the sensuous whisper against her sensitive skin, catching the fine cloth between her legs as she wriggled to get comfortable and address the pulsing throb in her core; and to nestle deeper into Joan’s heavy breasts.

Dipping her index finger in a bowl of oil she tenderly anointed Vera’s left nipple, the taut peak tightening at her slippery touch. She slowly traced the circle of crinkled tissue, pressing deep into Vera’s flesh and eliciting groans of appreciation from her partner. Vera’s groans deepened as Joan’s soft fingertip repeatedly and rapidly swept across the hard tip making it bend at its base and spring back harder than ever; she arched her back, baring her fine throat to Joan as she drew erratic gasps of air.  
The sharp sting and deep ache as Joan pinched her nipple shocked her clit and her thighs clamped together as wetness seeped from her aching hole. Vera’s mouth opened wide in a silent cry as the skin of Joan’s fingers whitened with the pressure she was applying to the slippery brown tip, her small fists flexed as she fought the urge to touch herself. Vera knew Joan was pushing her, challenging her, and after their closeness this evening she wanted to test herself too. Instinct told her a lot was riding on it.  
Joan had known very few women who could take this level of direct stimulation and still enjoy it. She raised her hand, pulling Vera’s teat taut until the greasy nib finally slipped from her grip. She stroked the tender under-swell of the heaving breast and slid her oiled fingers across to roughly crush the other quivering globe, her tongue swelling as Vera gasped loudly, her soft wet open mouth inviting a deep, probing kiss.

Repressing her desire, Joan reached across Vera and chose a large olive from the remaining dishes; applying it to the firm brown nub, intricately circling the long, hard nipple with the slippery fruit, stroking its oily skin across Vera’s quaking breast.   
She drew the olive up to the hollow of Vera’s throat, the oily trail gleaming on her sweaty skin; tracing the path of the pulsing vein and along the curve of her jaw before sliding it betwixt her parted lips; teasing them, grazing the tip of her quivering tongue as her own slipped out between her seductive smile. Vera followed Joan’s movements for as long as possible, her wide eyes drawn to that strong, pale, purposeful hand; bewitched by Joan’s lustful gaze when her greasy digits slipped from view. 

Joan dunked the olive back in the oil and applied it between slender thighs.   
Vera gasped in astonishment and moaned loudly as Joan used the fruit to trace the contours of her cunt, feeling it glide over her inflamed, slippery membranes on its way to her clit. Joan tormented her noisy, writhing deputy; using the lightest touch she coaxed Vera’s clitoris into a frenzy, the protective hood slid back revealing the shining red kernel, visibly pulsing as Vera desperately sought to control the convulsions Joan wrenched from her. She was already on the edge, fraught with the need to come when the sweet torture changed again.  
Joan dabbled the warming olive in the overflowing well of Vera’s scalding opening and brought it to the gasping mouth, smearing Vera’s lips with her own salty juices and pushing it deep into the bed of her dry tongue.

Wiping her hand on Vera’s hip Joan reached for a spray of large, glossy black grapes. She bit one from the bunch, lips wrapping round the dark orb; her mouth watered as it burst between her teeth and filled the crevices of her tongue with juice. She plucked another from the pale stalk and rolled it between her thick fingers. Vera’s lust filled eyes bored into hers. She spat the olive into her palm, letting it roll into the cushions. “Joan…?” Her voice was desperate, her wide, round eyes pleading for release.

Joan gave Vera a lazy grin, her eyes crinkling into dark crescents. “Don’t worry, I’m not done yet!”   
She ground the grape hard into Vera’s clit, increasing the pressure until the skin gave way and ruptured; slippery flesh spread, shrouding the hard peak in cool softness. Joan’s fingers worked their magic until Vera thought she might faint from excitement; she felt lightheaded from panting, each gasp failing to cure her breathlessness.

Joan selected the largest fig on the sticky platter and tore it open, forcing it against her open mouth, tonguing and sucking at the flesh before smearing it across Vera’s chin and lips, feeling her mouth work against the flat of her hand and fingers, the sensation of Vera’s tongue licking her palm through the thin skin shot straight to her cunt. Sticky moisture pervaded her tingling inner lips as her clit swelled between her clenched thighs.  
She took another fig from the tray, sliding down Vera’s side to spread its soft pulp over the pert tits that now thrust towards her face. Grabbing the last one she tore at it with her teeth and rubbed it into Vera’s fevered cunt as she sucked and bit the perfect breasts that tempted her so often; licking the remnants of fruit and honey off hot, tender skin, tasting the musk of Vera’s sweat. Hectic red marks bloomed against the pale mounds revealing the path of Joan’s passion. Vera didn’t think it possible for her to become any more aroused but the sight of Joan’s animalistic desire, the feeling of sticky fruit, hands and mouth on her body, drove her wild.

The fig had disintegrated in Joan’s palm, mushy pulp mixing with Vera’s prolific secretions whilst her fingers stroked and probed slick frills. Vera’s scent was heady, intoxicating; it prompted the most primal response in Joan. She worked her watering mouth down the toned abdomen and gently curved belly, her chin forged a path down through Vera’s sticky pubic hair till her tongue encountered the sweet tang of Vera's essence. Pushing Vera’s legs wide Joan rubbed her face hard against the soft, slippery meat that was offered so readily.  
Vera was aroused beyond belief; her body was alive with sensation, her saturated cunt pulsed with longing, her nipples swollen and hard. Joan was like a bitch on heat and seeing her like that, so obviously horny and wet for her, made Vera just want to fuck and fuck. She thrust her cunt towards Joan's eager mouth, crying out as the wet membranes connected.

Joan wallowed in Vera’s scent as she explored her plentiful inner labia, her tongue running over the swollen ruffles that guarded the seat of extreme wetness. The sweet, silken secretions filled her mouth with heady musk and sweat, mingling with the freshness of the ill-used fruit that gathered in the crevices of tissue thin membranes. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the perfection of the moment.   
Her agile tongue probed deep into Vera’s entrance, swirling round, igniting the surrounding nerve-endings with thick, slick lips; her large hands cradling tight, velvety buttocks, curbing Vera’s more enthusiastic gyrations as the excited younger woman ground her clit against the mobile cartilage of Joan’s strong nose. Vera too was lost in the moment. The sensation of Joan’s mouth on her was exquisite. She’d fantastised this very act so many times but the reality of Joan’s tongue inside her, the sliding of her lips and teeth along her slit roused her to a fervour beyond anything her Governor had subjected her to thus far. She never wanted this rapture to end. 

Joan tugged at the plentiful inner labia with her teeth, lips gripping them, pulling the pearlescent flaps to their fullest stretch then letting them spring back. As they swelled they began to stand proud and reveal the delicate palette of Vera’s arousal. The luscious pink core of her clit and inner curve gave way to delicate, translucent mauves traced through with purple veins, the outer edges darkened to a dusky hue. 

Soft brown curls, heavy with a cocktail of excitement and saliva wetted Joan’s nose and cheeks, her chin fairly dripped with juices, her thick silver-spangled hair was damp with sweat and pungent nectar, sticky strands gummed themselves to her cheek and Vera’s thighs, she raked it back with clawed fingers, their whiteness startling against the raven blackness.   
The now unoccupied hand found its way up Vera’s quaking body, splayed fingers pushing up and over the small peaked breast. She turned her head slightly to view their reflections in the glass panels – they looked like lovers but Joan knew that the mirror lied. Whatever took place between them, however tender it may appear, there was no love, not on her part at least; it was always an exercise in power and positive reinforcement. 

Joan lay at full stretch between Vera’s trembling legs, cushions pressed themselves hard against her throbbing breasts and aching cunt. As her hips reflexively ground into the soft padding her thoughts turned to leather clad fingers plunging deep into Vera; of biting her tender flesh till she cried out in a mixture of pain and lust….and gratitude. But Joan clamped down on her dark desires - she must exercise control; this night was for Vera, not her… There would be time later to enjoy this moment. 

Vera tentatively stroked Joan’s hair as it spilled over her hips; she had controlled her instinct to caress Joan but this didn’t count as touching. She rubbed the tousled locks against her bare skin, her fingers clenching knots of it as she crested on the waves of the exquisite tonguing; this skilled woman was elevating her to heights of ecstasy she never knew could be achieved from oral sex.  
Her feet and shoulders lifted from their bed of cushions as Joan blew a brief stream of cold air over her engorged sex before warming the surprised flesh again with her succulent, hot mouth; feeling blissfully wanton Vera gripped the backs of her knees and drew them up to her chest, pulling them wide, opening herself up totally to Joan’s limber tongue. She longed for Joan to fill her, for her to press her naked body against hers, to possess her…..  
She thought then that Joan had never looked more seductive; nose buried in damp thatch her piercing black eyes gleamed as they locked on to Vera’s, whose pupils were so dilated they almost matched; her pale skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat, made whiter by the sculpted ebony brows and flowing mane of obsidian hair that tumbled around her strong face.  
“Fuck me, Joan. Fuck me with your fingers?”  
Joan lifted her head. Her wet face shone in the low lamplight. “Not tonight, Vera.” Her hands moved to caress Vera’s inner thighs, her fingers skated across the velvety skin, sliding down to the moist heat of her tangled fur where she pulled and pressed at her swollen outer lips till they lay snug against her pubic bone so that Vera’s clit stood hard and proud; her thumbs stroked the small tufts of hair that played along the edges of Vera’s slit.

She lavished all her attention on Vera’s stiff clit, keeping her tongue soft and light, knowing that Vera wanted more, would be begging for release as the sweet tension built. She was rewarded by an increased vigour in Vera’s undulations, her sticky hips rotating as she chased her orgasm. Prompted by a growing stiffness in her neck and shoulders Joan slowly began to increase the pressure on Vera’s slippery little bud. Directing her attention to the ridge of hardened tissue running from Vera’s sodden hole to the tip of her clit Joan felt cool ankles fall against her sides as Vera began to pant hoarsely, her back arching with the delicious strain and hands searching out her small breasts.  
Joan’s gaze travelled along Vera’s vibrating body, over her beautiful, jiggling breasts as she worked her tongue hard against the satiny swelling, dragging waves of sweet juice along its rigid length; she could see how close Vera was to coming and redoubled her efforts, pulling the plump outer lips even tighter and creating a strong vacuum with her lips whilst grinding her tongue against the bulging tissue that pulsed beneath it. She swallowed against the rising tide of wetness as Vera stiffened, her thighs framing Joan’s head, gripping her cheeks, muffling the frenzied moans that tore from her throat. 

The concentrated sensation was so intense, Vera loved it, craved more of it; but this was different, unlike any other time Joan had fucked her. No-one had ever focused such attention solely on her cunt before. Vera, consumed by her urge to come, concentrated on the pressure building in her wildly pulsating clit, matching it with harsh twists of her aching nipples. Her groans became wilder, loud and repetitive as, desperate for release, she forced herself against Joan’s unforgiving mouth. When the orgasm finally hit, white-hot waves surged and crashed from her clit causing Vera’s body to violently contort, forcing Joan to pin her hips down with all her strength for fear of very real injury. Vera’s ecstasy was bared to the night sky, as she sobbed out grunts and cries of pleasure into the darkness. She’d never come that hard before, ever! Wetness seeped down between her arse cheeks to pool on her dress, ruining it further.  
Joan made no move to cradle Vera. She sat back on her haunches and wiped the abundant juices from her face and neck with her napkin, popping a handful of grapes in her musk-filled mouth to cleanse her palate. 

Vera lay on the cushions regaining her breath, watching Joan retreat from her, observing with familiar dismay her impassive facial expression. She ached to be held, for the pleasure to continue but knew that this particular desire was fruitless. This whole evening had been different though, she’d felt a closeness between them she was sure; or had she? She realised that she could no longer trust her own judgement, she was too involved. Joan now seemed just as aloof as ever. Like a man, thought Vera with a bitter internal laugh. Losing all interest post-fuck. But did Joan get sufficient pleasure from just fucking her? She had backed away from her just now making it abundantly clear that the sex was done.   
And Vera wanted to touch her SO badly…her body ached with longing for contact with Joan’s skin. But now it was almost as if the evening had never happened. Vera felt her contentment turning rapidly to simultaneous confusion and ironic amusement that she could, and should, have predicted this from the start of the evening. She was frustrated with herself that she felt this way every time yet still went back for more, telling herself she didn’t care and it didn’t matter. What the hell did Joan want from her? Tonight she’d felt like, well almost like, her equal but now as if she was back at square one. She was sure that she’d been tested in some way, but just wished she knew how, and whether she’d passed or not. She couldn’t, however, deny the feeling of physical satisfaction she felt. Surely Joan would never have done THAT to her if she didn’t care in some way. She just wasn’t sure what Joan’s way was. 

Joan reflected on the events of the evening as the sweat cooled on her body. She was intrigued by Vera, she considered the very strong likelihood that killing her mother was the catalyst to this newfound confidence, yet there was still a chance that this could be a case of ‘fake it till you make it’. She knew that there had been times in her own past when her steely persona was little more than carefully constructed artifice; nevertheless, Vera had made tonight’s small-talk tolerable. She suspected that by normal standards she had barely told Vera anything about herself but it had felt almost natural.   
A small smile worked at the corners of her mouth thinking of how she had gone a little ‘off-piste’ with the fruit. She didn’t want to be so badly affected by pleasuring Vera; her first instinct had been to use her to rid herself of this overwhelming lust that burned through her every fibre but she could not allow herself to do it. Vera needed to be reminded that it was Joan who was in charge, not she.   
She knew that Vera would have been hoping to perform some kind of reciprocal activity following her lavish licking but it was more important that she knew she was still very much the ‘junior partner’. Regardless, Joan’s cunt remained a swollen nuisance. She forced herself to push away fleeting memories of a forceful, lusting Vera; her teeth biting down on Joan’s breast. She HAD to focus.

“Vera, much as I feel that things are very much different for you following your mother’s passing, for which I am very pleased, you know that what happened between us cannot happen again whilst there is still so much for you to learn and assimilate. I can’t allow you to take liberties lest they affect your performance.”   
“What do you mean, Joan?”  
“Your continued development makes me proud, Vera – that’s not something I say often but you have such potential as a new Governor….and as a lover. I can’t bear to see you lose focus.”  
“But, Joan..”  
“Your skills require further honing and I very much need you to trust in me to guide you. I see how you sometimes doubt my methods. For example, my strictness with the inmates; you feel empathy with them still don’t you? You can’t allow yourself that luxury, Vera; don’t get drawn in.” Her dark eyes became serious as they searched for understanding in her deputy’s. “It’s no good for them in the long run and it’s no good for you. There must be boundaries. And equally, there must be consequences for transgressing those boundaries.”  
“Like you punishing me, you mean?”  
“Even I, as Governor, must have limits, Vera; the power I have must be controlled for the good of the prison, for my own good and….” she looked deep into Vera’s eyes “…and for the good of those around me.  
Control is paramount, Vera. But control requires you to effectively manage your emotions; emotion leads to mistakes, Vera, trust me.” A grimace of pain flashed across her handsome features.

“But why is control always so important, Joan?” Vera demanded bluntly. “I understand why at work, we have to manage potentially life threatening situations, but personally? Surely you can’t help but be affected by some emotions; not always, but there must be exceptions….?”  
Joan turned her head and spoke to Vera’s reflection. “Exceptions can be your Achilles Heel; they can be very thing that damage you irreparably.” She drew a deep breath through her nose, blowing it out through pursed lips into the night as she returned her gaze to Vera’s puzzled face. “It is so much harder to control emotions in your personal life, Vera; where things are less structured, more variable…..more fluid. But if you find that you are capable of doing so, don’t you see how it will make you so much stronger and more successful professionally, Vera?”

“So am I meant to understand that if you allow me to touch you, to make love to you in the way that most people would describe as ‘normal’ that you are in danger of losing that control, of ultimately being rendered powerless? Come off it, Joan! I’m only one woman, it’s not as if I’ll ever have that much sway over you!” Vera laughed bitterly. As well as feeling frustrated, Vera felt almost angry at Joan’s words but she had to tell her how she felt as long as she was being so open with her. “I know that you don’t love me and I accept that; but I need a little affection now and then, as an acknowledgement that you do actually take some enjoyment from fucking me!” She held up her hand to silence Joan’s protest. “No – not at work, I don’t expect that; but when we are alone…you’re so good at the deep, meaningful looks – although I admit I’m often at a loss as to your intentions – but the only time you touch me is when you want to screw me! And you won’t let me touch you again during sex will you?” 

Joan looked at her quizzically. “Vera… oh, Vera! Were you expecting hearts and flowers? I’m afraid that’s not on offer; surely you’ve always known that? What I meant you to take from that is that you must trust in me a while longer. I have said from the very outset that you need to control your emotions more effectively. I don’t expect you to dispense with them entirely - that’s not who you are, but you allow them to cloud your judgment still. I cannot have a loose cannon for a Deputy, I must know that you will do the right thing, at the right time; and for the right reasons.” She reached out and covered Vera’s hand with her own.  
“And when I get it wrong you must punish me.” Vera’s voice carried a tinge of bitter sarcasm which Joan chose to ignore; instead she squeezed Vera’s fingers.  
“And if you get it wrong then of course I must chastise you. We’ve established that you learn best by physically undertaking a task; after all, there have been no further repeats of your public daydreaming or issues around cell allocations have there? And as for your demeanour… well, Vera Bennett, for a small woman you can be a real force to be reckoned with! DO you trust me, Vera? WILL you allow me to help you to reach your potential?” 

“Well trust is based on sharing, Joan.” She looked expectantly at Joan, a small frown dancing between her eyebrows. “Will you share with me?” She gave a second’s thought. “Can you even share?”  
“That all depends on what you want me to share with you, Vera. My age? But you’ve probably already discovered that in my general file hmm?” She touched the guilty looking woman’s knee.” It’s OK, Vera, I would have done the same; after all, knowledge IS king in this world. So what do you want to know?””

She decided to take advantage of Joan’s obvious interest. “Am I allowed to ask where you learnt to touch a woman in such amazing ways? I know I’m not what you’d call experienced but hell, Joan, I didn’t know I could take half of what you’ve done to me and still say yes to more!” 

“Satisfying sex starts in the mind, Vera. Just as skin is the body’s largest sexual organ, the brain is its largest erogenous zone.”  
“That very first instance of arousal starts deep in your brain; a look, a touch, a memory perhaps – something triggers a receptor and kick-starts a train of events throughout your body. And it is your brain that decides if you are going to allow that reaction to progress. But sometimes even your brain has no control over itself - have you never woken up grinding your hips into the mattress, your body a slave to your dreaming mind?”  
Vera laughed. “I can’t imagine that happening to you, Joan!”  
“I am but human, Vera. I’m as susceptible to erotic thoughts as anybody else; surely you’ve noticed?” She smirked as Vera blushed unconsciously.

“Much of your enjoyment is down to you; how you focus on the stimuli and how you allow your thoughts to develop. You have no fear of your body, Vera, and that’s good; it allows you to better focus your pleasure.   
And you are intellectually adventurous too, that’s liberating, Vera. It means that your mind is not closed to the possibilities that a varied education offers. Proven by your willingness to submit to chastisement. Were you aware that researchers have found that sexual excitement numbs the female nervous system and blocks the sensation of pain, leaving only one of pleasure? You enjoy a certain level of discomfort don’t you, Vera? It’s nothing to be ashamed of, especially if you are able to recognise the value of the lesson alongside the inevitable arousal; and pain can be enjoyed for its own sake too.”  
“But where did you learn all this Joan?”  
“Trial and error, scientific journals, - I have an enquiring mind.” She winked at Vera. “And of course, expert tuition… I told you about my own mentor didn’t I?”  
“Only that you had one and she buys you gloves.”

“Did your mentor teach you how to use a cock so well? Is it a tradition?” Vera was shocked at the audacious question. It must be the wine talking. She needed to be careful though; she didn’t want to overstep the line, Joan could close down so quickly. 

“Dildoes, strap-ons, vibrators, love eggs, clitoral stimulators et cetera, et cetera… toys have their place but there are other erotic mediums that tap into our more basic desires. Did you enjoy the meal? What did you like best? The flavours? The textures? Eating with your hands?” She observed Vera intently “Or watching me lick my fingers clean?”   
“You know exactly what I liked about the meal! Seeing you eat like that…. I never thought….”   
“So it wasn’t the food itself then…?”  
Vera waggled her hand in front of her. “Meh! I’ve had better!” she squinted at Joan and giggled, causing the older woman to smile and shake her head.   
“I can see I’m going to have to up my game next time. I can’t have you telling people that I’m a poor hostess can I? Guests should always leave feeling satisfied, don’t you agree?” 

Vera took a chance. “H-How many women have you been with?”  
Joan gasped in mock surprise. “Vera! You should know that a lady doesn’t kiss and tell!” she gave a subtle tilt of her head and winked at her sheepish deputy.

Then Vera did the unimaginable. The question escaped her mouth before her brain had time to register it. “Who was your Achilles Heel, Joan? Who’s responsible for this need to control that you find so hard to shake?”   
The look of shocked horror on Joan’s face told her she’d made a huge faux pas. She cringed and inwardly cursed her morbid curiosity and inability to keep her mouth shut. What the fuck had she been thinking? No, why couldn’t she just think BEFORE opening her bloody mouth?  
“I’m sorry Joan, I shouldn’t have asked that, I have no right.”   
Did she really expect Joan to lay herself bare just because they’d established some sort of rapport tonight? She berated herself – you idiot!

Jianna! Joan desperately tried to force the cherished image from her mind. A succession of expressions animated her pale face as she fought to control her startled anger and bewilderment. She had been caught off guard by this exceedingly personal question – she’d been far too familiar with Vera tonight and now, again, she asked for a level of intimacy that far exceeded their contract. She should never have allowed herself to be persuaded to pander to Vera’s grief. “Forgive me, Vera, but that topic is not up for discussion. I think you know that.” She hoped that Vera couldn’t hear the tightness in her throat as she pushed out those clipped words.

“I’m really sorry, Joan. Please, forget I asked that.” Vera reached out her hands but stopped as she saw Joan flinch away from her. She started to panic. Everything was unravelling, that closeness between them that she’d felt; she’d ruined it all. Stupid, useless idiot!

“Let’s just draw a line under it and say goodnight hmm?” She could let it go but she would not forget. She took little comfort in the knowledge that Vera knew that she had overstepped the mark and would be desperate to get back in her good books; willing to go that extra mile to make up lost ground. 

“Are you OK, Joan? I’m, it’s just...I’m really sorry” She stared miserably at her lap.   
Joan had a fleeting yet hugely arousing image of her gloved hand slapping Vera’s face, cuffing her ear, gripping her throat….But she had said to draw a line under it and she would keep her side of the bargain – for tonight at least.  
Joan jerked her chin in that familiar way that so often indicated regret. “Yes, Vera. I’m fine. Now, I have an early breakfast meeting with the GM in the morning – will you be staying in the spare room or would you like me to call a cab for you?”  
“I take it that if I stay the same rules as last time still apply?”  
“Naturally, Vera, I must be rested if I’m to stay sharp.”


	5. Chapter 5

Vera lay sprawled on the bed in the spare room, propped up by pillows, naked, her skin sticky with the residue of fig and Joan's saliva. She was exhausted but wired, her entire body tingling with afterglow. She felt so good she couldn't even bring herself to feel disappointed that Joan had unceremoniously deposited her here. After waking up alone the time they had made love, Vera had resigned herself to the fact that Joan would never spend the night with her. It was a fact she'd just have to accept however much she longed for it. And after almost ruining everything earlier with her stupid question she felt thankful that she was even here at all. She’d thought for a moment that Joan was going to throw her out but she’d still let her stay the night.  
God... and how she’d fucked her tonight! Vera vowed not to make the same mistake again and to work extra hard to please Joan. 

She glanced over at the bedside table. On it lay a book with a baby pink cover, Malibu Cheesecake, The Pinup Art of Olivia. It would have seemed far too frivolous a title for Joan, if not for the woman on the cover, a buxom beauty in stockings, suspenders and heels. So this was where Joan got her ideas! Vera leafed through the book, sitting up quickly as image after image of scantily clad women, in stockings and huge heels, full breasts on display, jumped out at her. They reminded her of the tattoos sailors or truck drivers had! She was shocked at the arousal she felt. Here she was telling herself that she wasn't attracted to women, just to Joan, but now she was imagining closing her mouth around that huge, stiff nipple; sucking and biting it. Thinking about how sexy she would feel in those stockings and heels. How Joan would look at her in them; run her hands slowly and firmly up her thighs. She felt the pricking of shame. No! She wasn't going to live like that anymore, she'd told herself, once her Mum was gone. She focused instead on Joan. On the way they'd not taken their eyes off each other all evening, on the connection she'd felt between them. On that flush that had spread up from Joan's chest at the sight of her, Vera! 

She stretched out on the now familiar bed. Rolling onto her side she imagined waking in the morning, Joan curled behind her, pressing her cunt and tits into Vera's back and arse, one hand pulling at Vera's nipple, the other sliding inside her. Vera felt her clit twitch at her thoughts. Jesus, how could she be horny again after coming so hard not half an hour ago! She couldn't get enough of this woman, she was becoming insatiable! 

She remembered the look of lust in Joan's eyes as she’d dragged her tongue down to Vera's cunt. She circled her left breast thinking of Joan's touch as she fingered and tentatively tugged her nipple. Feeling a flood of sensation and wetness she rolled onto her front. Another unbidden thought flashed through her mind - of Joan waking up from an erotic dream, with any luck about her, grinding her clit against the bed. Vera imagined pinning Joan to the bed, forcing her to relinquish control, being so turned on she couldn't resist; like THAT night. Vera thought of the way Joan's lips had parted earlier as she'd slid her boot slowly down her calf... Joan liked them almost as much as she did. 

The fantasy of Joan thrusting herself against the boot’s sole returned to her but this time she needed more. Her sex aching, Vera pictured herself clad in those beautiful spiked heels and the waspie Joan had so admired. She felt sexy and so, so powerful. She straddled Joan, the pointed toe of her right boot between soft, milky thighs, millimetres away from her wet slit. Her hands pressed Joan's shoulders firmly into the bed. Joan tried to inch her cunt closer to the leather tip but found herself pinned by Vera’s bodyweight. She moaned in frustration. That sound, being in control of Joan’s pleasure, made Vera so very wet. She shifted her balance to her right leg and hand, bringing her left calf forward until it was parallel with Joan's leg. She drew it upwards, sliding the leather slowly up her lover's thigh, twisting to make sure she dug the spiked heel into Joan's tender flesh. Joan groaned as she felt the caress of hide and piercing pressure on her skin. Vera watched herself lower her throbbing cunt onto Joan's pale thigh, thrusting against her, humping her hip, her cunt open and slippy. She inched her right boot carefully into Joan's dripping hole.  
“Please, Vera!”  
“What, Joan? What do you want?”  
“Fuck me Vera. Now. Please!”

Vera lay on her front, thrusting into her own hand, fingers inside herself. She pulled hard at a nipple, imagining it trapped between Joan's teeth. The sensation wasn't enough! She felt wildly by the side of the bed for her discarded boot. She ran her fingers over the smooth leather, its pointed tip, and flattened herself face down on the mattress, crushing the boot between quaking thighs. Visualising a growling, desperate Joan, her wet cunt impaled and at Vera's mercy, she crushed her own clit into the boot's instep and thrust her aching hole against the unforgiving tip. 

Vera imagined brazenly rubbing her wet cunt over Joan's breasts and Joan's initial gasp of pain at the altered angle of the boot before she began to urgently thrust the full length of her sex against It, panting and grunting, squeezing and kneading Vera's arse cheeks hard. Coming with a shout, Vera didn't care if Joan heard, focusing instead on the waves surging from her cunt, as in her imagination it was fucked by Joan's luscious tits. She lay gasping and panting unaware of the pinhole camera recording her every move.

\-------------

It wasn’t until Vera was safely ensconced in the spare room that Joan finally allowed herself to relax. She gave a long sigh as she leant against her bedroom door, the tension in her long muscles dissipating into a deep glow that flowed towards her very core as her mind toyed with the image of Vera’s pale body, framed by richly coloured fabrics. 

Crossing the room she sat down before the pc monitor, groaning as her swollen cunt pressed into the padded seat.  
“All Quiet on the Western Front, Joan?”  
“You’re the one with the CCTV feed – you tell me!”  
Maggie’s eyes momentarily slipped away from Joan’s image. “She’s found the book; let’s wait and see what she does with the contents hmm? If she’s got any energy left of course!” She looked back at Joan, a salacious grin on her face. “She’s full of surprises though, isn’t she? You need to nurture her, Joan; you could do with a companion now and then. Someone who can understand your temperament, who accepts some of your little …. idiosyncrasies.”  
Joan opened her mouth to argue.  
“Hey, I’m not suggesting that you become a couple! But you have to admit that there are times, few I grant you, but there are some when your ‘me, myself and I’ approach just isn’t enough to keep you on an even keel.”  
Joan said nothing; she knew the ring of truth when she heard it.

Maggie continued. “Yes, OK, I share your apprehension; I agree she’s still too unpredictable. I understand her character well enough but this transition stage is challenging her abilities I think; she needs to consolidate her advancement. Will you give her the chance?  
“You think she needs it? I was hoping she could take more; she’s certainly willing enough.”  
“Are YOU willing to risk it? You'll have to give her more of yourself if that’s what you want; you know I’m right don’t you? Do you think you can manage to do that as well as direct her effectively?” she cocked an eyebrow at Joan’s silence. “She brought up something painful earlier didn’t she?” Her voice softened. “You know my views on your fixation with Jianna, I’ve nothing new to say on the subject, but you’ll have to deal with it sooner or later, love.”  
Joan scowled at Maggie. She was dealing with it but it was none of Maggie’s business, not any more.

“And you are attracted to her. How much did it cost you not to come tonight eh? You must be so hot and sticky…” Maggie studied Joan closely. She had a weak spot for this strangely awkward woman; she always had. “You are, aren’t you?”  
Joan gave a low groan and ground her aching sex against the edge of her seat. “Oh, Maggie, you have no idea.”  
“Show me. I want to see.”  
Obediently Joan stood and stepped away from the desk providing Maggie with a full-length view as she slowly pulled her tunic over her head; extending her spine in a languorous stretch as she raised her arms high into the air. With equal deliberateness she loosened the waistband of her trousers and let them fall to reveal her nakedness.  
Moving closer to the webcam Joan widened her stance and ran her hands up her inner thighs until her thumbs grazed her abundant pubic hair, pulling her outer lips apart she thrust her hot folds towards Maggie, her clit twitching as it hit cooled air.”  
Maggie chuckled throatily. “Oh my, Joan, what a sight for your old Governor! I want to see how wet she got you though; show me.”  
Joan slid the first two fingers of her right hand into her swollen vagina, pulling them out again to display a heavy coating of shining secretions to the camera.  
“Mmmmm, very nice! You must be desperate to rid yourself of that ache between your legs; would you care to relieve yourself and indulge an old woman at the same time?”  
Joan beamed in anticipation. It had been so long since she’d played with Maggie; their schedules rarely coincided and Maidens Grange was over 1500km distance from Wentworth so visits were limited.

Joan quickly repositioned the webcam and screen, bouncing onto the bed to test the coverage and focus; happy with what she saw she slid off the high mattress and opened the hidden door to the cupboard housing an array of monitors and recording equipment. At the press of a small button two different images of her bed appeared in the upper bank of screens and two new diodes winked into life on the control panel. 

Reclining on a drift of pillows Joan pulled at her pink nipples, rolling the malleable tissue between eager fingers; they darkened as she pinched them, hardening, aching, swelling. She grabbed roughly at her breasts, fingers digging deep into the soft flesh, her polished fingernails carving crescents into the pale skin. Her clit jerked at the pleasure her painful actions were creating. Her long legs rubbed together, sliding up and down, toned muscles slipping past each other as the sensation on her burning skin fuelled the fire in her cunt.  
“Open your legs, Joan. Touch yourself.”  
Joan complied and let out a strangled groan as her fingertips grazed her pubic hair. Her middle finger worked its way between her full outer lips, tickling tender sticky rills and sliding a trail of slick silk up to her clit. Her shoulders arched off the bed with a sharp intake of breath as brilliant lights played behind her closed eyelids. She felt shot through with icy silver fire.  
“That’s it, slowly, slowly my sweet, dirty girl.” Maggie loosened her robe, letting it slide off her shoulder as her hand disappeared inside. “How good does that feel eh?”

“Mmmnnnnh!” There was nothing but finger and cunt, that shocking silken, velvet feeling that tightened her groin and focused her need. She squirmed as she tenderly stroked her demanding slit, rubbing the firm edges of her thin lips, legs sliding across the smooth sheet as her hips twisted and jerked. The intense need to speed up was maddening.

“Oh my, Vera! That girl of yours is a joy to behold, Joan! Such a hot little piece! Looks as though you didn’t wear her out after all! Who do you think she’s imagining right now? You? …. Or one of those beauties in the book?”  
Joan’s mind was filled with images of well-proportioned women in suggestive attire, lingerie, rubber…. Her thoughts turned to Maggie’s leather gloves stroking their way across her face, her neck, tickling her nose as Maggie’s strong hand clamped hard against her mouth… Ohhh! Her mind conjured the scent of leather mixed with tobacco smoke; Maggie’s particular fragrance….  
“How does she taste?”  
“Good! So sweet! Jeesuussss …!” Sharp teeth bit at her lips, small bruises forming on the tender inner skin.  
Her fingers teased the silky wet muscles around her vagina, the sweeping tips causing the surrounding tissue to swell further until they were enveloped in hot, twitching flesh, thick, milky secretions lubricating the deep channel beneath her cupped hand.  
She could hold back no longer; three fingers plunged easily inside, hooking behind the bone, massaging her g-spot. The singular sensation heralded a rush of hungry longing that spread from her lower belly and heated her core, creamy wetness followed – her fingers slurping as the moisture welled against her palm and tumescent folds.

Maggie grinned with lusty satisfaction; Joan looked spectacular at this moment, splayed on the bed, writhing in ecstasy but young Vera wasn’t doing too badly either. She watched the compact woman’s lascivious antics on the live feed.  
“I want to see her return the favour Joan. You’re going to let her pleasure you at some point soon. You’re going to let her lick that luscious, dripping fanny of yours and I’m going to be watching. Can you imagine how it will feel? Will you enjoy that hot, wet mouth lapping up your juices?”  
Joan groaned as the image played in her imagination. Soaking her palm she rubbed it hard against her velvet wetness, fingertips dabbling in her slippery, clutching entrance.  
“I saw how she ate that fig… just think what she could do if given free rein between those sticky white thighs of yours – oh I definitely want to see that!”

Joan emitted a series of gasping mewls as her thick fingers slipped along her sensitive furrows, gliding over silken planes, intensifying her need for more; screwing her eyes shut she saw geometric patterns sliding across the inside of her lids, her mind was filled with light and desire as her hand worked against her sparking clit.  
Maggie’s voice cut through the roaring in her ears. “Do you want the cock, Joan?”  
“Yes!”  
“What will you do with it, Joan?” She smiled in faux-innocence at the sweating, gasping vision on the bed.  
“Fuck myself till I come!”  
A broad grin spread across Maggie’s face. “Well then, girl, you’d better get to it!” she chuckled throatily.

Joan pulled a spectacular dildo from the nightstand drawer, thick and long it bounced gently in her grip.  
She pushed the domed head between her thick, crimson lips, swirling her restless tongue around the thick tip.  
Knees splayed wide Joan slid the smooth shaft between her puffy lips, the cool thick rod a singular sensation against her heated flanges of flesh. Her lean thighs involuntarily closed around the welcome intrusion, enveloping it in twitching softness.  
“Now, Joan. Slide it in.”  
Liberally coating the tip in her well of slippery secretions Joan pushed at the base of the dildo, forcing it against tight muscles, deep inside. The solid cock filled her, touched every nerve, stunned her senses. Her body jack-knifed, head thrown back, teeth bared in a rictus of lust.

In another state an old lady stroked her clit as her eyes darted back and forth between images of two very different women in similar states of carnal frenzy.  
“That’s it, fuck yourself. Pump it in and out. Oh yeah, yeah you like that don’t you? That gets you wet doesn’t it, you dirty bitch?”  
Each long thrust vibrated through Joan’s tense body, her breathing became shallow and lights flashed behind her eyes as tingling invaded her skin. Her toes curled, gripping the sheets, then flexing as the muscles in her shapely legs rippled and strained.  
“Harder! I want to hear how wet you are!” Maggie’s voice was husky, her breathing becoming heavier as her hand worked between her ample thighs.  
Joan’s body sang with an internal vibration as she increased the pace, varying the length of the strokes. “Aahhhh…..fuuuck! Fuck! You’d better be enjoying this you dirty old woman…”  
“I can’t fail with a saucy minx like you my dear. Turn over. Show me that lovely arse of yours.”

Joan obeyed. Rolling over into pillows she propped up her chest and shoulders; her fabulously sensuous back curving, accentuating the glorious swell of her muscular rear. Her dark hair cascaded between her shoulder blades, tickling her skin, contrasting with the glistening dark thicket peeping from between her rounded thighs.  
She stretched her arm behind her, located her desperate hole with the tip of the dildo and rammed it home, her buttocks jiggled as she worked the cock in and out, mashing her engorged clit against the mattress, rubbing her mons against the densely woven cotton sheet.  
Joan wriggled her hand under her chest, seeking out the breast that had been freed by her contorted shoulder. Gripping her nipple tightly between first and second finger tips she dug them mercilessly into the yielding mass, pushing deep into the milk line, grinding hard nails into the responsive tissue. Oh god that felt good! She buried her forehead in the cool sheet and bit into the plump pillow.  
She could feel her orgasm mounting, a tight ball of aching tension forming low in her belly.

She raised herself to kneel wide-thighed, the base of the cock jammed into the bed as she rode it, fingers dragging over her clitoris whilst she mauled at her breasts, viciously twisting them, yanking them out and away from her body, crushing them against her heaving ribcage as she shook and grunted, breath coming in jagged pants and snorts. Eyes fixed on Maggie she raised her fingers to her mouth, sucking on them with greedy need before collecting a ball of saliva and smearing it across the rigid mass of her large clit. Ohhh the feeling was indescribable! She circled the tortured peak feeling her muscles tighten around the cock, her thighs tense and straining to maintain position as her knees slipped wider, forcing the delicious cock deeper. 

“Go on girl! Ride that cock, ride it like it’s mine. Fuck yeah, that’s it…harder!!”  
Nothing existed for Joan except the swirling maelstrom of sensation between her legs. She sank further onto the cock, stretching herself to her fullest, hips pistoning her diamond hard clit against her stiff fingers, the heel of her hand pushed hard against her mons. Sweat gathered between her breasts and rolled down to pool in her navel as she heaved and thrashed.  
Her gasping cries grew in volume as darkness enveloped her and the astounding feelings coalesced into the towering, shimmering wall of climax. Time slowed – that tenuous moment of equilibrium before everything collapsed in on itself and she rocked against the slamming force of her release. Her convulsions shook the bed; spittle flew from her open mouth as her jaws stretched wide, lips drawing back over her teeth as a howl tore from her dark soul.  
She fell into the shining abyss as her large frame shook like a leaf in a gale. Wracked by debilitating shocks she flailed left and right, her dark hair tangled around her sweaty head and stuck to her neck and chest in ebony ropes; the quick-silver streaks at her temples reflecting the glow of the monitor.

She collapsed backwards, boneless, exhausted, replete. Her breathing slowed as she was suffused with a warm glow of satisfaction, but caught in her throat as she was rocked by electrifying after-shocks. Gently, ever so lightly she stroked her outer lips, ruffling the sticky hair, fingertips tracing the curve of the slippery dildo still gripped by her swollen cunt. Her hips jerked as she slid the hot cock out of her tight vagina, thighs twitching as its wet length slipped across hyper-sensitive skin.

She rolled onto her side, pulling the top sheet with her and dragged an armful of pillows down to support her heavy head. She gazed at Maggie’s image; her grey haired mentor was flushed and sweaty, cigarette smoke layered around her head, little billows of it issued from her lips as she addressed Joan. “I’m so glad you agreed to hold off until we were alone.” Maggie smiled tenderly at Joan; Joan, her awkward girl; Joan, her shining success: Joan, her favourite.  
Joan’s low voice was muffled. “Sing to me till I fall asleep?”  
“Just like old times, eh?”  
“Yes, just like old times.” Joan smiled sleepily.

“Oh, go on then….” Maggie said indulgently and extinguished her cigarette. Her surprisingly rich voice floated from the speakers.  
“….Last night I dreamed we were together sharing all the love we've known;  
‘Til I had to face the nightmare of waking up alone.  
On the inside the sun still shines and the rain falls down;  
But the sun and rain are prisoners too, when morning comes around.  
On the inside the roses grow; they don't mind the stony ground;  
But the roses here are prisoners too, when morning comes around.”


End file.
